


Holly Jolly

by VerdantMoth



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Anal, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Butt Plugs, Christmas, Christmas Smut, Flavored Lube, Kissing, M/M, Neck Kissing, No Direct Incest, Rimming, Rough Kissing, Threesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-11
Updated: 2019-01-11
Packaged: 2019-09-14 12:44:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16913106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VerdantMoth/pseuds/VerdantMoth
Summary: Arthur is sitting on an oversize, cushy red and gold chair, dressed only in his ridiculously long Christmas sweater. He’s draped so that his legs rest over one arm, waiting. The lights are twinkling behind him, music wafts from the speakers. Someone has turned it down since Santa’s Workshop is closed now. He can hear the bells of a costume coming down the hallway. An impish grin spreads across his Arthur’s face as he relaxes, as much as he can, between the armrest. This is the scene that greets Leon when he comes around the bend, sweater in his hand and bells still jingling on his ridiculous elf shoes. The striped tights are suddenly tighter than they were five steps ago.





	Holly Jolly

Arthur is sitting on an oversize, cushy red and gold chair, dressed only in his ridiculously long Christmas sweater. He’s draped so that his legs rest over one arm, waiting. The lights are twinkling behind him, music wafts from the speakers. Someone has turned it down since Santa’s Workshop is closed now. He can hear the bells of a costume coming down the hallway. An impish grin spreads across his Arthur’s face as he relaxes, as much as he can, between the armrest. This is the scene that greets Leon when he comes around the bend, sweater in his hand and bells still jingling on his ridiculous elf shoes. The striped tights are suddenly tighter than they were five steps ago.

Arthur shrugs, “Maybe.” He shifts, specifically so his sweater will move. Leon doesn’t miss it, if the way his throat bobs is any indication. He dumps his hat and his sweater by the chair and stands there looking unsure of himself. 

He runs a hand through his curls, causing them to spring out, and says, “Santa wouldn’t like you sitting in his chair.” He lifts Arthur’s legs, shoves at the teen until he can fit himself on the ostentatious chair, with Arthur’s legs draped over his lap. He’s careful about where he places his hands, but Arthur doesn’t have time for that. He sighs, heavily, and throws a hand over his face.

Leon places a cautious hand on Arthur’s thigh. He cast his voice so that it’s obnoxiously cheerful and says, “Santa is currently away on break, but I can pass a message to him if you’d like!” He pats Arthur’s leg like he’s genuinely sorry the big man isn’t there.

“Don’t patronize me, Leon,” Arthur grumbles. “Play with me! I’m bored and I’ve been in this stupid workshop all day, smelling the nutmeg and clove and listening to Jingle Bells on repeat and I’m dying!” Arthur slides further down, wiggles around so his butt is perfectly situated over Leon’s crotch. He winds his hands in his sweater, tugs until he can feel the cool air as it brushes the tops of his thighs. 

Leon bites back a smile. He reaches and grabs the sweater from Arthur and tugs it back down. But he doesn’t move him off his thighs. Instead be begins to tap his fingers against the smooth  skin. “Sounds like someone could use a bit of Christmas cheer,” Leon sing-songs.

Arthur rolls his eyes as he kicks his legs apart. It has the desired effect of baring him completely to Leon, who tries to look more unaffected than he is. Arthur smirks at him and wiggles and shifts a bit. He moves so that he is positioned with his knees against the back of the chair, hovering over Leon’s lap. “Oh yeah, and what’s an elf like you gonna do?” He says as he leans down to run his nose through the red curly beard. He leans back and sneezes, annoyed at the glitter. Leon lifts both of his eyebrows. 

“Is that a challenge? Sounds like someone’s being a little naughty.” His hands hover uselessly at Arthur’s waist, not quite touching him. Arthur moves his own hands down Leon’s shaven chest until he can prod at the bulge growing in his obscene tights. 

Leon makes a decidedly unChristmas sound and pushes so that Arthur nearly topples off. In a  grand display of dexterity and grace, Leon lifts himself without displacing Arthur too much, before pulling at the younger man. He positions him so that Arthur’s chest is balanced on one of the arm rests, legs spread against the seat cushion and head hanging over the floor. Then he lifts the sweater until it’s over Arthur’s shoulders. He doesn’t give him any warning before he slaps his pert behind, hard. Arthur’s cry bounces off the walls. “Shouldn’t be so rude. You never know what kind of trouble that’ll lead too.” 

Arthur pulls the sweater off. “Guess I’m about to find out, aren’t I?” He says it smug, like there isn’t a fire burning through his lower half. 

Leon doesn’t like the attitude. He ruffles Arthur’s blond hair with a sigh. “Oh kid, you really ought to watch the attitude.” Before Leon can say anything else though, they hear the click of the heels of Santa’s costume on the floor. Leon glances up, but Arthur just grunts. He sits up on his knees and Leon stops waiting for Uther to arrive, too busy staring at the stretch of golden skin.

Arthur looks over his shoulder. “Yeah, it’s a nice view.” Leon snorts, and gives his butt one more slap. He lets his fingers trail over the pert globes, fingers ghosting between them. It shuts Arthur up, so Leon presses a little farther in, until his fingers come across something slick, and a warm glass surface. He raises his brows and Arthur’s face flushes a pretty holly red. “I’ve been waiting all day. I didn’t want to have to wait even longer.” 

“It’s Christmas Eve. The lines are always long and wrapped half around the mall,” Leon says distractedly. He leans down to investigate. The faintest hint of peppermint is buried beneath the smell of musk, and Leon grins as he spots the the silver glass base nestled in golden curls. “You’ve been snooping in your gift again?” He prods the glass with one finger, enjoying the way it makes Arthur whine. 

“Christmas Eve means I get to open one gift,” Arthur grunts out. Leon feels a hand on his shoulder, and he turns to see Uther, still wearing the long white beard. He tugs it off and kisses him. 

“You taste like turkey and mustard,” he grumbles. Uther just shrugs. He runs his hands down Leon’s chest, down his thighs, before squeezing the growing bulge beneath his tights. 

“You started without me?” Uther asks. 

Arthur lifts a petulant shoulder. “Haven’t gotten very far.” 

“Well, don’t let me distract you.” Uther steps back, and begins pulling off his coat, and the fake belly underneath. Leon goes back to inspecting the glass. He pushes Arthur’s legs further apart. The smell of peppermint is stronger, so he leans in and runs his nose along the dark curls, inhaling the scent. He can’t help swiping his tongue, grimacing at the bitter flavour. 

Arthur’s whole body jolts forward, so Leon does it again, this time better prepared for the taste. He can hear Uther unbuckling his belt, peeling off the boots. 

Leon carefully pulls at the base, eyes on Arthur’s hands curled around the armrest. His knuckles go white as Leon gets to the thick bulb, watching the silver fade into a dusky green dotted with reds and blues and golds. Arthur whines a little as it stretches his rim, but once Leon has it out his head whips around. Leon watches as the little rose-bud puckers and pouts, and because it’s still shiny with slick he fits two fingers in, curling them.

It has the desired effect of make Arthur groan, brows furrowed in concentration as his hips shift, trying to get Leon to do his bidding. Leon is about to, when a cold hand slides through the red curls of his belly into the more russett ones below his tights. 

He doesn’t  _ yelp _ , exactly, but it’s a near thing. Uther chuckles in his ear before nipping the lobe. “I couldn’t resist,” he says. He gives a gentle squeeze that has Leon sucking in a breath. 

“Wait your turn, Uther.” He focuses his attention back on Arthur, adding a third finger. He curls them, wriggles them, spreads them. Arthur’s head droops against his arms as his back twitches. He’s trying to keep steady. Leon places a kiss to the top of his thigh, before standing up. He kicks off his shoes, strips off his tights and his underthings. Part of him wants to tease more, to savor this. But it’s been a long day and he doesn’t really have it in him. And honestly, Arthur came  _ prepared _ , so he doesn’t think the teen will mind too much. 

He doesn’t give any warning before the head of his cock is pushing into the warm, slick hole. He tries to enter carefully, for Arthur’s sake. But Arthur reaches back, wraps his hand around Leon’s thigh and tugs as best he can, forcing Leon to enter him in a swift stroke. They both hold still then, adjusting to each other. Uther takes that as his chance to sink to his own knees, and bury his tongue inside Leon with no warning. 

The sensation is overwhelming, buried inside Arthur with Uther licking him open. He grips the younger males hips, fingers digging in hard enough he knows he’s leaving crescent moons in the golden skin. Uther chuckles, clearly aware, and the vibrations make Leon shudder, which causes Arthur to shudder. 

Leon knows the rules. He’s entered Arthur, he’s holding steady. And he’s waiting for Uther. Uther pats his butt once, reaches around to grab his balls. He rolls them in his hands, squeezes them, watching as the two males before him tremble. 

Leon, unlike Arthur, was not smart enough to prep himself prior. But Uther makes quick work of using spit-slicked fingers to open him. Leon’s a little worried he’s going to leave bruises on Arthur’s hips. But if the way Arthur’s teeth are digging into his wrist are any indication, Leon thinks he’ll be forgiven. 

Uther isn’t as generous as his lover, and when he enters Leon, Leon hisses. “A little warning?” Uther bites the junction of his shoulder and his neck, and jerks his hips. It propels Leon forward, and then Arthur. 

Uther sets up a steady, unrelenting pace that strips Leon of any semblance of control. He bounces between Arthur and Uther, lost in the rhythm. The heat of Arthur, the weight of Uther, it quickly pushes him to the edge. Uther reaches a hand up his chest, nails scratching at his nipples. Leon cries out, and jerks. He’s not sure if he’s moving forward or backwards at this point, but it doesn’t seem to matter. 

Arthur comes first. What sent him over the edge, Leon might never know. But he’s suddenly clenching around him, hard and shuddering. It causes Leon’s whole body to tense, and then he’s spilling into Arthur. Uther lasts five more thrusts, before Leon feels the hot, sticky release shooting deep inside of him. 

There’s not enough space on the chair for them to collapse against it, but Arthur curls on the cushion and stares up at Leon with sleepy, sated eyes. Leon snorts, and drapes his sweater back over him. He leans down and kisses a rosy cheek. “Sleep a moment, while we clean everything up.” 

Uther grumbles behind him, carefully withdrawing. But he produces wipes from wherever it is that he keeps them. They’re cold, but efficient, as Leon cleans himself first, and then Arthur who whines. Uther takes care of himself. 

“Do we have to wear the costumes out?” Leon ask.

“Yes,” Arthur answers. “You promised Morgana you’d surprised Mordred with a visit from Santa and his elf, and we’re already late.” 


End file.
